


Come Home To Me

by BlackKite7



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged up characters, Established Relationship, Hanamaki tries not to let his feelings get the better of him but fails to do so, M/M, Matsukawa has been away visiting family with Hanamaki's birthday drawing ever closer, fluff and small sads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 15:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5831275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackKite7/pseuds/BlackKite7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he had fallen silent, Matsukawa’s voice rang out in his eardrum, calling out to him. “Oi, Makki?”</p><p>“Yeah?” Hanamaki said the word sharply as he crossed his legs and drew them close to his chest. Something there was hurting. He felt sick. Maybe he had had too much to drink earlier.</p><p>“Are you crying?” The question was soft spoken and hesitant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Home To Me

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday to my smol creampuff son. The urge to write something a little sad was too strong to ignore and so this happened. Enjoy~

Hanamaki sighed as he threw himself down onto the small couch in his tiny apartment. The day had been long and his bones felt heavy. He’d spent the morning with his family, celebrating his birthday with them and having a pleasant lunch that was far too amusing with the way his little sisters tried to sing ‘ _happy birthday_ ’ to him. Their voices had been far too loud and in the wrong pitch entirely. Hanamaki had managed to record it on his phone, and had the greatest pleasure of showing it to Oikawa when he joined him and Iwaizumi for drinks that evening.

It had been a good day. He was tired and smelled like cheap beer, but it had been good, save for one rather large, glaring detail he hadn’t been able to ignore.

Matsukawa had gone to Osaka for a few weeks, having left just after the new year to spend time with his family. The two of them had talked about it, and Hanamaki had been adamant that Matsukawa being absent for a while was no big deal. He had still left reluctantly, almost guiltily, despite the fact that they texted daily and called each other at least one a week. He had originally planned to come home sooner, but fate had conspired against that plan.

Hanamaki sat up and nestled himself into the corner of the couch that had been worn away and faded from where Matsukawa’s broad back usually rested against it. He had unwittingly worn one of his boyfriend’s sweaters out that evening, something that Iwaizumi and Oikawa had been quick to tease him about, and he rolled up the sleeves past his forearms before trying to search his pockets for his phone.

Matsukawa had sent him a text at the exact moment the clock ticked over onto the twenty seventh of January. Hanamaki stared at the message he had read countless times throughout the day and smiled to himself.

 

 _Happy Birthday Fat Ass~_  
_Don’t bend over or you’ll rip your jeans~_  
_I have a bunch of sweets I got here in Osaka for you. Grandma ate half of them though. Sorry._  
_I can draw something naughty on her cast as revenge if you want._  
_I’ll get my brother to help too. He’s good at drawing. Kinda._  
_Anyway, I love you and your fat ass~_  
_Happy Birthday._

 

Hanamaki had sent him a sleepy reply, having lain awake hoping Matsukawa would send him a text. He had checked his phone several times during the day, waiting for Matsukawa’s call, but had missed it while he had been at lunch with his family. He had tried to call him back, but the call wouldn’t go through, and he felt a little disappointed that Matsukawa hadn’t left him a voicemail. It was possible Matsukawa thought he might be interrupting and chose not to, but Hanamaki wouldn’t have cared.

He had spoken on the phone with Matsukawa at the beginning of the week. It had been only a few days ago. They had only video-called through skype twice since Matsukawa had packed light and had to borrow his brother’s laptop for it. They sent each other photos every other day about whatever they were doing that was worthy of sharing at the time. All these little things had kept Hanamaki going for the last few weeks, but he was nearing a limit he didn’t know he had.

He flicked through the photos he had saved to his phone. Matsukawa sent him dozens of photos of Osaka and his family, and in every one he had a wide grin on his face and that oh so familiar sleepy look in his hooded eyes. Hanamaki dragged his nail over the phone’s screen, sighing as he dipped his head back and dropped his phone to his chest.

Hanamaki had made a joke while bidding Matsukawa farewell at the airport. He claimed that he wouldn’t miss him one bit since they would be staying in contact. Texts and photos and rushed three minute calls were enough in the beginning. A few simple updates about what was going on and the like. But now…

Hanamaki missed him. More than he thought possible.

He missed waking up in the morning to see Matsukawa buried under the half dozen pillows on his side of the small bed they shared. He missed the way Matsukawa would chase him out of the bathroom in the morning, and the way they would share their lunches while at university and complain about their lecturers. He missed walking home with him under a sweltering sun and sneaking into the shade of the tree near the river to kiss just before they got home. He missed the way Matsukawa would hold him against his chest while they watched something terrible on television and poke fun at it, and the way he always put his colds on his stomach just to tease him.

But more than anything else, Hanamaki missed the feeling of warmth at his back when he crawled into bed, the feeling of chapped lips scraping against his throat with a murmured ‘ _goodnight_ ’ right before he fell asleep, and the tender smile he was flashed every morning when they woke the next day.

It made his heart ache, thinking of such things, and he tightened his grasp on his phone, his hand shaking as he held it close to his chest. He heaved a shaking sigh from his lungs, trying to calm himself as he sat up and looked around the small apartment. The lounge was tiny and cramped, and the kitchen even smaller. Cooking together with Matsukawa meant stepping on each other’s’ toes and making miracle saves when they dropped glasses or bowls, and smirking as they laughed and called out ‘ _nice receive!_ ’ to one another.

Living on the bottom floor of the apartment complex meant that they had a small garden area adjacent to the living area. In summer, they would squeeze themselves out there and flick watermelon seeds at Oikawa and Iwaizumi when they came over. In winter, they would measure how many centimetres of snow were crawling up the glass door separating the inside from the out. They were silly rituals, but it was time well spent, and cherished, and Hanamaki didn’t realise how much these little things meant to him until Matsukawa had gone and left an uneasy silence in their tiny home.

They had always been together, so whenever they were apart, it felt like something was fundamentally different wherever they were. When they were in high school, and one of them became sick, their classmates often commented how strange it was to see them by themselves. They had gotten used to one another’s presence long before they started dating. Being together felt natural, calming even. Apart…it was like the earth shook under Hanamaki’s feet and threatened to tip him off balance. He didn’t know if it was the same for Matsukawa.

All he knew was he hated sitting alone in the lounge. There was no humming song coming from the bathroom while Matsukawa showered, no clinking or clanking of him moving around the kitchen, no exhausted grumbles coming from the bedroom.

It was just quiet.

When Hanamaki’s phone began to vibrate on his chest, he jolted upright and it flew off the couch and bounced on the creaky hardwood floors and slid under the television stand. Hanamaki threw himself off the couch and hopped over the coffee table to spread his hand under the gap of the television stand, lifting it up with one hand awkwardly while shifting his hand around the phone that rattled on the floor. He pulled it out quickly with a triumphant grin and paused to check the caller before he hastily answered the call.

“Hey!” Hanamaki breathed out the word excitedly, panting a little as he stood up and shook the dust off Matsukawa’s sweater.

“ _Geez, someone likes to take his sweet ass time~ is it fun to keep me waiting?_ ” Matsukawa’s voice was deep but warm, a welcome sound and a wide smile tugged at the corners oh Hanamaki’s mouth.

“I like keeping you on your toes~” Hanamaki replied as he began to pace around the living room while he talked, an odd thing he caught himself doing from time to time. “How was your day? The old lady giving you grief?”

“ _When isn’t she? But anyway, that’s my line, you shit. How was your birthday? You had lunch with your folks right?_ ” It sounded like Matsukawa was walking, speaking quickly between breathes as he shuffled around and hurried somewhere. It made Hanamaki smile that he was calling him when he clearly had something to do.

“Be nice to gramma, caterpillar brows~” Hanamaki scolded lightly and pursed his lips for a moment to keep his expression in check. “Lunch was good. Really good. Remind me to show you a video of the twins when you get back. They can’t sing for shit. It’s cute. You’d be proud.”

“ _Oh, sounds good. Did you end up meeting with the lovebirds at all?_ ”

“Yeah. Oikawa badgered me until I agreed to go out for drinks with him and Iwaizumi.”

“ _Who the hell lets Mr. No-Alcohol-Tolerance arrange a drinking party?_ ”

“Bad friends, that’s who~ you should have seen his face by the end of the night. Iwaizumi said he’s going to send me the photos, I’ll forward them to you later.”

“ _Sweet. I can’t wait to bully Hanger about it._ ”

After a shared laugh, there was a small pause in the middle of the conversation, the two content to listen to one another breathe for a short moment as they tried to think up something to say. Hanamaki sat himself down by the sliding door that led outside, his back pressed against the wall as he looked out at the flickering street like he could see over the back wall.

“How much longer are you going to be away?” Hanamaki asked the question thoughtlessly. The words escaped him before he could stop them, but it wasn’t as if he didn’t want to know the answer. Matsukawa was supposed to have only been away for two weeks, three at most.

He was supposed be back in time for his birthday. But his grandmother needed more care, and his family insisted, so he remained with them. He rarely saw them since they moved from Tokyo to Osaka, with him remaining behind to continue his studies. They had once brought up the idea of a transfer, but Matsukawa had refused it outright, and there had been a tension among them since that Matsukawa didn’t speak of very often. Hanamaki had played it off as if he didn’t care, that Matsukawa should be with his family. Even so, it hurt him, but he never really acknowledged it. He didn’t want to.

It would be selfish to, he had told himself. To try and pry away Matsukawa’s attention for himself when his family needed him more…he shouldn’t do that, no matter how much he wanted to.

“ _I'll be back s_ _oon._ ” The reply came quickly and far more confidently then Hanamaki would have thought. But it was still vague, loose and it could change at a moment’s notice. When he had fallen silent, Matsukawa’s voice rang out in his eardrum, calling out to him. “ _Oi, Makki?_ ”

“Yeah?” Hanamaki said the word sharply as he crossed his legs and drew them close to his chest. Something there was hurting. He felt sick. Maybe he had had too much to drink earlier.

“ _Are you crying?_ ” The question was soft spoken and hesitant.

“What? No way, I’m…” Hanamaki’s mind went dark in an instant. His voice cracked painfully while he spoke, shaking and all too telling, and he felt something warm slide down his cheek and the taste of salt fell on his lips.

“ _Takahiro…?_ ” The sound of Matsukawa uttering his name so sweetly made the ache in his chest twist and twinge more, and he raised a hand to cover his mouth in a vain attempt to stifle the cracked sobbing noise he released.

“I miss you…” Hanamaki whispered the words, as if hoping his hand would muffle them enough that they wouldn’t be heard. “I want you to come home…”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Hanamaki didn’t know if it was because he was waiting for him to say something or if Matsukawa was thinking of something to say. He could hear the sound of shuffling through the receiver and he could hear Matsukawa breathing, slow and softly through the speaker. Every second that passed felt like a lifetime, endless and suffocating as he tried to calm himself.

“ _Hey, come unlock the door for me._ ” The words were light hearted but stern all the same. It was a rare tone that Matsukawa ever used, and Hanamaki lifted his head a little, staring at the opposite wall in confusion.

“What?” He choked the word out after a moment, his throat suddenly thick and tight.

“ _You heard me. Open up._ ” With those words, the call was abruptly ended, and Hanamaki stared at his phone, disbelieving that Matsukawa had just hung up on him.

The initial shock faded when he heard a rattle nearby. It was a familiar noise, the sound of the front door handle jutting up and down, unable to open with the lock firmly in place. Hanamaki felt his heart leap into his throat and he dropped his phone as he hauled himself to his feet, stumbling over them as he ran to the front door, his heart pounding in his chest as he crossed the small space between the lounge and the entryway.

He yanked on the door handle, forgetting it was locked and quickly fumbled with the latches before trying again. When he swung the door wide, he barely had a moment to register the fact that Matsukawa was standing there, noticeably exhausted and looking more dishevelled than normal. He pushed into the apartment as Hanamaki reached for him, dumping a heavy duffle bag on the floor at the entryway and opening his arms as Hanamaki fell into them. Hanamaki’s hands clung to the back of his shirt, tugging on the fabric as he pulled him into a tight embrace, as if fearful that he would fade away should he let go in the slightest.

Familiar hands wrapped around his waist, one of them sliding higher and move over Hanamaki’s chest and ghosting over his neck before burying in the short tufts of light brown hair. The hand there tugged on his hair, tilting his head back enough that Hanamaki willingly removed his face from the crook of Matsukawa’s neck, eagerly accepting the kiss that was planted on his lips. Matsukawa’s lips were chapped as usual and they scrapped against Hanamaki’s as he kissed him roughly, desperately, in need of some feeling of him in that immediate moment.

Hanamaki choked on a sob through the kiss, breathing in sharply as his breath hitched in his throat, and Matsukawa held him closer to his chest, enveloping him in a tight embrace that they both prayed would never end. When Hanamaki’s knees began to buckle under him, Matsukawa stepped back and pressed his broad shoulders to the door that was swinging on its hinges, pushing back just enough that it clicked shut and he allowed himself to slide down it, bringing Hanamaki with him to cradle him in his lap.

Hanamaki broke away from the kiss first, breathless as he hastily rubbed at his face, and Matsukawa took one of his hands away from his face to hold it in his own, fingers lacing together immediately while he planted tender butterfly kisses to his cheek, tasting the same saltiness there that he had moments ago on Hanamaki’s lips.

“Happy Birthday, Takahiro.” Matsukawa smiled as he pulled Hanamaki closer on his lap, rubbing his hands in small circles over his spine.

“You’re such an asshole…” Hanamaki stuttered the words as he dropped his head to rest it on Matsukawa’s collarbone. Matsukawa’s thick arms wrapped around him, keeping him firmly locked in the embrace while tenderly stroking his hair and back. “You should have told me you were coming back!”

“It wouldn’t have been much of a surprise if I did that.” Matsukawa murmured into his hair as he nuzzled it gently. “I’m sorry.”

“You bastard.” Hanamaki’s insults were lazy and hollow, and Matsukawa couldn’t help but smile more as he squeezed his boyfriend in his arms, having missed such a simple touch with all his being. Hanamaki’s body fit all too well in his arms, the curve of his chest mending perfectly into his own.

“You love me.” Matsukawa kissed his temple and Hanamaki sat up just enough to look at him without pulling out of his arms.

“Lucky you.” Hanamaki laughed for a moment before cupping Matsukawa’s cheeks in his palms and kissing him once more. The kiss lasted several moments longer than the last, tongues ghosting over lips and teeth as it deepened.

Hanamaki sighed against his lips when he pulled away, dropping his head forward enough to rest it against Matsukawa’s forehead, their lips barely inches apart. Hanamaki’s hands travelled over his lips, down his throat and chest and back up to curl around his neck. Matsukawa’s body was warm, immensely so, and Hanamaki had forgotten how much he missed the way Matsukawa chest arched into his when he leaned against him.

“I missed you so much Takahiro.” Matsukawa said after a while, the hand in his hair slipping ever so slightly to hold the side of his face gently. Hanamaki leaned into the touch, tilting his head enough to kiss his palm.

“I missed you too…” He breathed the words into his hand, shaking as he released the loneliness that had been buried deep in his heart. The hands at Matsukawa’s neck trembled over his skin and Hanamaki looked at Matsukawa with watering eyes, the smile on his face awkward with how his lips quivered. Matsukawa returned his gaze with a broad grin and he stroked his thumb gently against the space under his eye.

“You’re such a sap.” Matsukawa teased as he leaned forward and gently kissed him for the third time, and Hanamaki’s smile grew wider as he returned the kiss and chuckled against his lips.

“What does that make you then, who just travelled four hours to come back home?” Hanamaki asked him and it was Matsukawa’s turn to laugh into the kiss.

“A loser that’s way too in love with his best friend?” He suggested and Hanamaki shook his head and shifted to slide down and rest his head on Matsukawa’s chest, hugging him just as tightly as he had moments ago.

“Good.” Hanamaki said as he looked up at him, his chin resting on his chest as Matsukawa dropped his head to smile down at him lovingly. “That makes two of us.”

Neither had any intention to move away from the door anytime soon. They were content to sit there in the entryway, pressed against one another and simply enjoying the warmth of one another’s body, indulging in the way the fit so well in each other’s arms. Occasionally, they would kiss, murmuring a hundred different things against one another’s lips that had been left unsaid during the brief phone calls and text messages that had been connecting them for the last few weeks.

When they had first started dating, Hanamaki never thought he would turn into a person that would become so used to his lover that their absence left a void in him. And yet there he was, clinging to Matsukawa and praying that he hadn’t fallen asleep on the couch and was merely dreaming of his return. The feeling of Matsukawa’s fingers slipping through his short hair and rough lips on his told him otherwise, and for the sake of his aching heart, he was willing to indulge in that feeling for as long as humanly possible.

Matsukawa was home, by his side, right where he belonged, and Hanamaki had no words nor means to express his elation. He swallowed hard and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, and Matsukawa murmured soft ‘ _I love you_ ’s into his hair as he rubbed his back.

If the morning had to come, Hanamaki hoped it would come slowly, but he took comfort in knowing that if he fell asleep, he would wake up beside Matsukawa once more, feeling the warmth of his body at his back, his arms around his waist, and the roughness of his lips at the nape of his neck along with a murmured ‘ _good morning_ ’ not far behind. Just as he always had. Like nothing had changed, like he had never gone away.

Like he had always been there, right where he should be.


End file.
